


If I Had A Million Dollars

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Motorcycles, Ryan tells awful jokes, battle buddies, they're both stupid in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 03:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: Joining the Fakes means Ryan and Jeremy suddenly aren't struggling anymore. It's a strange new feeling.





	If I Had A Million Dollars

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "If I had $1000000" by Barenaked Ladies.

Joining the Fake AH Crew was a risky choice that brought a lot of change.

Suddenly, they have access to almost any weapon they want. Any vehicle. The heists are far more daring, the assassinations far more personal. But the biggest change has nothing to do with killing people.

Suddenly, Ryan and Jeremy don't have to worry so much.

About money.

They'd been paid for their past work, of course. But working as independent contractors wasn't cheap. They constantly invested by way of weapons and supplies, and the pay wasn't always worth it. It didn't help that they were constantly traveling to stay mostly off the radar. Injuries were also admittedly common, and under the table medical work is not cheap.

It's a bit frightening being so stable all of a sudden. Consistent pay. A network to support them through missions.

So, yeah, Jeremy goes buck wild.

He buys a house.

“What do you mean this is our’s?” Ryan asks, looking around the large empty house Jeremy has escorted him to. “Is it a new safehouse for the next heist?”

“No.”

“Geoff's new vacation home?”

“Nope.” 

Jeremy can't hold back his grin. He opens his arms wide.

“This is our's. Our house. Our home.”

The shock on his partner's face is almost comical.

“You bought a house.”

“Mhmm.”

Ryan seems to be at a loss for words. He's looking all around, more closely now that this place is important in some way, trying to absorb the information. He steps further in, towards the center of the barren living room. His head whips back around to Jeremy.

“We have a house.”

They stare at one another. Silence.

And then they burst into laughter.

They rush into a hug, arms wrapping tightly and desperate for the comfort, practically glued together. Ryan can't help himself, picks Jeremy up and spins him around, makes the younger man yelp before dissolving into giggles again. As soon as he's back on the ground again Jeremy kisses him. It feels like that first night, when they'd dived head first into a risky relationship in a dangerous job. Magnetized, adoring, entirely unable to separate because the simple feelings are complicating their lives beyond belief.

When they finally pull apart, they're both crying. They laugh at that, too, at one another and themselves individually.

“This is so dumb.”

“Yeah.”

“You're so dumb.”

He has to lean up on his tiptoes to kiss Ryan's cheek.

“Love you, too, battle buddy.”

\---

The furniture comes next.

And boy does the salesman at the store hate them.

They're like little kids, wandering the store in awe of all the things they can finally buy with confidence. No walking away from it. They have a house. Their own house, which will be filled with their own furniture. Not a hotel room, not an apartment. It's stupidly exciting. Never before has Ryan been so thrilled by an ottoman.

They fill carts with appliances and papers with delivery information. Fake names, but whatever, this is real.

“Should we get rugs? I sorta like rugs. They complete the room.” Jeremy says, looking at the dozens upon dozens of rolled up rugs.

“I can not believe this is a conversation we are having.”

“You don't like rugs?” He frowns

“What-- no. I mean, this is all just,” Ryan gestures vaguely, “surreal.”

“Totally. But we've got this.” He grips Ryan's shoulder.

“Yeah. We do.”

“Damn right. Now help me pick a rug.”

By the time they leave the store, they've thrown away thousands of dollars and terrified a cashier. The two are giddy, Jeremy talking non-stop about what he's going to do with each room. Ryan chimes in to talk about his plans for the kitchen occasionally, but is mostly content to let Jeremy carry the conversation, never tiring of the determined shine in his eyes. 

\---

“Is this real?”

Jeremy looks personally attacked.

“God no. Fur is cruel, Ryan.”

His partner nods, turning in the mirror. The jacket is ridiculous. Mostly black, which he has to admit matches his style, but with a thick fur collar that frames his face. It's gaudy, seems more like something Gavin would wear. He kinda loves it. Shocking, dark, fun. Perfect. More than anything, though, is the fact that it's a gift from Jeremy and he's a smitten asshole.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Jer. But I gotta ask; why?”

Jeremy shrugs.

“Why not? We've got the money.”

Huh. He doesn't know what to say to that at first, since he's sorts right.

“Jeremy,” he starts, “you know you don't have to buy me things, right?”

He nods frantically. “I know! I just, I like it? Not in a weird way though, uh… I dunno, man. It feels nice to be able to buy stuff.”

Ryan walks over and drapes his arms over his shoulders, resting his chin on top of his head. Jeremy huffs, but hugs him anyway. His voice is muffled when he speaks.

“It’s okay if you don't like it.”

“That's good, because I don't like it. I love it. I could use a change up occasionally.”

“Really?” And fuck, he sounds so nervous.

“Absolutely.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

\---

This is by far the fanciest dinner Ryan has ever been to. He's wearing the same suit as everyone else yet somehow still feels underdressed. They're sitting at a secluded table courtesy of Geoff, who's got connections to the owner of the place. The sound of a piano being softly played drifts around them as Jeremy sips the wine that Ryan has passed on in favor of water.

“I didn't even know you own a suit.”

“There's a lotta things you don't know about me, Mr. Haywood.”

He rolls his eyes at Jeremy's little wink.

“I know you hate rich assholes, which means I _don't know_ why we're here,” pauses, tacks on, “Mr. Dooley.”

Jeremy bites back a laugh, shrugging. “Got me there. Guess I just wanted to treat you.”

“Every moment I spend with you is already a treat.” He says, grinning at the way Jeremy groans in response to his corniness.

“I'm dating the world's biggest dork.”

“You're cheating on me with Lindsay?”

Thank God they're in a secluded area, because Jeremy can't help the way he laughs and he's pretty sure the high society dickwads in the rest of the restaurant would want to strangle him. He shakes his head and somewhat gets ahold of himself.

“What are you gonna order?”

Ryan looks back at the menu and hums, eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“They don't seem to have what I'm craving.”

“Oh? What's that?” Poor Jeremy and his genuine curiosity.

“Five foot four of Boston charm.”

“Oh my god.” He covers his face with his hands, muffling his voice. “You did not--”

“I'm a man of simple tastes, Jeremy. You're a solid ninety percent of those tastes.”

Peeking out between his fingers, he glares at his boyfriend.

“You're a demon.”

“I just don't see why I should waste money on expensive food when I'm sitting across from a snack.”

“You did not. You didn't. Who the hell is teaching you words?”

“The internet. And Meg.”

“I'm begging you to stop. This is me begging.”

Ryan grins like a shark, obviously incredibly pleased with himself. Jeremy would find it endearing if it wasn't because of his own suffering.

“This is what you get for making me dress nice and pretend to fit in with a bunch of posh assholes.”

He bites his lip, watching the older man. Fuck it. He's right; this sucks. Sure, the wine is nice, but the whole stress of the situation isn't worth expensive grape juice. After finishing what's left in his glass, Jeremy slides out of the booth, making Ryan look a bit panicked.

“I'm sorry! This is great, Jer, really, I just--”

“Get up, we're leaving. You're right. This collar is too tight and over half the people here have stolen more money than us. Let's go.”

There's a pause, a beat of silence, and Ryan's smile returns as he's standing up. He reaches in his jacket and pulls out his wallet. Slaps a hundred on the table before Jeremy is grabbing his hand and pulling him away. They stumble through the restaurant like mischievous kids, giggling at one another and ignoring the annoyed looks of the other patrons. Ryan leans down to press a kiss to Jeremy's head once they're outside. 

They had arrived separately since Jeremy had wanted to surprise him with the fancy reservation. He sighs and looks around for the valet as his he pulls the little ticket out of his pocket. But Ryan stops him, grabs his hand and lowers it.

“Forget it. We'll send someone for it later. Mine is right over here.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, but he's entirely unsurprised that Ryan wouldn't let anyone else touch one of his vehicles. He's never even driven one of his boyfriend's cars himself.

Though, it seems Ryan didn't take a car this time.

“You came here, in a suit, on a motorcycle? How is your hair not a mess?”

“Luck and amazing conditioner.” He says as he gets on the Akuma, the bike roaring to life. There's two helmets, of course, because Ryan is nothing if not prepared. He puts his own on, tosses the other to Jeremy, and nods to the seat behind him.

“You're a mad man, Ryan Haywood.”

“Yeah.”

He laughs as he puts the helmet on and tightens the chin strap. The bike is still heinously loud through the material as he climbs on. And, yeah, he doesn't have to lean forward and hold onto Ryan's waist. Tons of experience riding this way means he's pretty solid on his balance, could just hold the seat like normal and be fine. But he's having a good time, and Ryan looks great in that suit, and he's never been one to pass up any excuse to touch his boyfriend. Plus, he knows Ryan loves it, so fuck it. He holds on tight as they speed down the streets, traffic laws be damned because it's not like the cops around here could catch them anyway.

The ride is longer than it has to be. They hit the highway even though they don't have to to get home. Ryan is pushing it, making the Akuma work like a Thoroughbred. He's easily moving from lane to lane, dodging around cars, ignoring the blaring of horns. It's got blood pumping wild in Jeremy's veins.

An hour passes before they make it home. The bike is parked in the garage and they've got hands all over each other before the helmets are even off. Ryan has to stop himself from jumping Jeremy right then. He puts enough space between them to pull his own helmet off, prompting his boyfriend to do the same. They laugh as they stumble inside, heading straight for the kitchen.

Watching Ryan make macaroni and cheese while wearing a suit and a backwards baseball cap is a sight Jeremy never wants to forget. It's stupid and domestic and just what they need. He loves their life together. Loves the heists and the wild car chases. He's pretty sure he'll die doing what he loves, but he can't imagine stopping. Regardless, having the ability to come back here, to sit around and act like they're just normal people, is an immense comfort.

“Bon appétit.”

Jeremy's broken from his thoughts by Ryan, who's holding a plate of mac and cheese out to him. He takes the plate in exchange for a quick kiss.

“Thanks, babe. Who needs steak when you have Kraft?”

Ryan shakes his head and leads them out into the living room, carrying his own plate. They sit on the couch, which still has the protective plastic sheet from when it was delivered. Quietly, they eat. Jeremy occasionally comments on where they should put the TV, or whether or not they should re-paint the master bedroom, while Ryan is content to listen.

By the time they're done eating, any semblance of space between them is gone. They're leaning against one another, Jeremy's head on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan's cheek on Jeremy's head. It works. The younger man's voice is quiet when he speaks.

“I like what we have. I like who we are. But I think I like what we used to have and who we used to be, too.”

Ryan hums, nods. “We're still those people, y'know. Still Battle Buddies, still the same you and me we've always been. We're new people, too, but that doesn't mean we can't have both. I think.”

“I think so, too.”

“Good, 'cause I'm pretty sure we're the only opinions that matter.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He pulls away, looks at Ryan, locks eyes with him, goes to talk but he's cut off.

“I'm gonna guess you love me.”

“Pretty big assumption, hotshot.”

“I love you, too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy grins.

“I know.”


End file.
